The clock on the wall
it's mocking me, I think
and the seconds are marked
by the drips of the sink

The ticking, dripping,
scratching, scrape
I sit at the window,
I watch and I wait

The phone's almost sleeping
it sits there, won't ring
though I sigh in frustration
it's rather annoying

I can't sit and read
can't stay still long enough
and yet at the same time
I don't want to get up

In pale knobbled trees the blackbirds sit
And refuse to sing but a rasping call
Pessimistically they watch the clouds and say,
"How dull! How dull!
If the monotony doesn’t kill us first,
The world will likely end tomorrow-
Unless postponed for rain."

The wolves don’t bother to raid the sheep,
the bears hibernate early.
The deer gave up guarding their young,
And the plain little flowers forgot to bloom.
Why not fall into discord and sleep?
The world will likely end tomorrow-
Unless postponed for rain.

Quiet boredom cloaked in silence
Here no nervous tension, no sudden drama
Only colored pebbles pushed by young fingers
While many eyes peruse, page by page
Old editions, as if finding great interest
In the outdated print, only pausing to cast
Surreptitious glances at fellow bookworms, who
Knowing full well, obligingly return the favor, causing
One to wonder why they do not tear their eyes from
Their entrancing reading and stare fully at each other
And so make the most of the situation